They finally broke apart.
Their faces stayed only a breath apart, mouths still open, chests rising and falling hard against each other. A thin, glistening strand of saliva connected their lower lips for a second before it snapped.
The air between them felt thick, almost heavy with heat.
Kushina's cheeks were flushed a deep, pretty pink; Minato's eyes had gone dark, the blue nearly swallowed by pupil. Her hands remained locked around the back of his neck, fingers still threaded through his blond hair.
His hands had never left her body—one still cupping the full, soft curve of her ass beneath the rucked-up red dress, the other splayed across the warm skin of her lower back, keeping her pressed firmly against the thick, insistent ridge of his cock.
She could feel every hard inch of him between her thighs. Even through the layers of cloth the heat of him was unmistakable, a solid, throbbing presence that made her core clench. A slow, satisfied smile curved her mouth.
"That was pretty good," Kushina murmured, voice low and a little rough from kissing. She kept her eyes on his, noses almost brushing.
Her hips gave the smallest, deliberate roll, dragging the damp heat of her pussy along the length of him. She loved how easily she could do this—how one prolonged kiss was enough to leave him hard, dazed, and visibly aching for more.
"Yeah," Minato answered, the word coming out half-laugh, half-groan. He still looked lost in it, lips wet and slightly swollen. "That was…"
Kushina's soft laugh was warm with affection and open desire. She couldn't stop herself. She leaned in and claimed his mouth again.
This kiss was hungrier.
Their lips met with a soft, wet smack that immediately deepened into something filthier. Tongues slid together in slow, deliberate strokes—licking, sucking, tasting.
The sounds filled the quiet room: the wet seal of mouths, the faint, obscene click of tongues, the low, continuous hum of pleasure that vibrated in both their throats.
Kushina's fingers tightened in his hair and pulled him closer until their bodies were flush.
The soft, heavy weight of her breasts crushed against his chest; even through the red one-piece she could feel the hard plane of muscle and the rapid beat of his heart.
Minato answered by hauling her tighter into his lap, both hands now gripping the full cheeks of her ass and spreading them slightly as he rocked her against his cock in a slow, filthy grind.
The dress limited her. She couldn't properly straddle him the way she wanted—couldn't open her thighs wide and give him the full, rolling lap dance he always loved, the one where her hips worked in tight circles and the soaked heat of her cunt dragged up and down the length of him through their clothes.
Instead she could only press and roll and squeeze her thighs around his, every movement making the thick ridge of his cock drag against her clit. Soft, needy sounds kept spilling from her mouth into his.
Minato's answering groans were deeper, more guttural.
One hand left her ass long enough to tug the neckline of her dress lower, freeing more of the soft, pale curve of her breast so he could thumb the tight nipple in slow circles while they kissed.
When they finally pulled apart again both of them were breathing hard, lips shiny and red. A thin thread of saliva stretched between their mouths before it snapped.
Kushina stayed seated on his thigh for another moment, forehead resting against his, clearly feeling the heavy pulse of his cock beneath her.
Only then did she turn her head.
Fubuki was still on the opposite sofa. Her face had gone completely red. Her thighs were pressed tightly together beneath the hem of the dark green dress, and her breathing had grown shallow enough to be noticeable.
The tight fabric clung to the hard points of her nipples. She looked caught between jealousy, arousal, and the sudden awareness that she had been watching them for far too long.
Kushina's smile turned slow and knowing.
"Do you want to join us?"
Fubuki blinked, clearly thrown. Her lips parted, but no sound came out at first. A soft, almost panicked flush climbed higher on her cheeks.
Kushina's voice stayed calm, almost gentle, though the heat in her eyes was unmistakable.
"If you want to join, I won't mind."
She glanced at her husband, who was watching the exchange with an open, anticipatory smile, the hard outline of his cock still clearly visible against his trousers. "And he'll really enjoy it."
Fubuki's throat worked. The formal part of her—the careful political survivor—wanted to measure every word. The rest of her, the part that had been growing wetter with every wet sound of their kissing, refused to back down.
She would not leave this room as the woman who only watched.
"It would be my honour to join you," she said, the formality still clinging to the words even now.
Kushina let out a soft, genuine laugh. The contrast—Fubuki speaking like she was accepting a diplomatic invitation while the air reeked of sex—struck her as unexpectedly charming.
She rose from Minato's lap with fluid grace, the red dress sliding back down her thighs, and crossed the short distance to the other sofa.
Her fingers brushed lightly across the slim plane of Fubuki's stomach, feeling the quick jump of muscle beneath the tight green fabric.
"Then let's go to bed."
She turned and climbed onto the large bed without waiting, the mattress dipping under her weight as she settled onto her knees, waiting, watching.
Minato stood. The movement made the hard length of him even more obvious against the front of his trousers. He walked toward Fubuki, eyes dark with open hunger, and caught her around the waist before she could fully rise.
One strong arm pulled her flush against his body so she could feel exactly how hard the kiss with his wife had left him. Then he bent, slid an arm under her knees, and lifted her cleanly into his arms in a princess carry.
Fubuki's breath caught.
The sudden loss of solid ground, the heat of his chest against her side, the casual strength in the arms holding her—it all crashed together with the residual jealousy and the sharp pulse of arousal still throbbing between her legs.
He carried her the few steps to the bed and, with a small, deliberate motion, tossed her onto the soft mattress.
She landed with a quiet bounce, dark green dress riding up her thighs, hair spilling across the sheets. The landing didn't hurt; the mattress was too yielding.
But the suddenness of it left her momentarily stunned, lying on her back, looking up at him while her heart hammered.
Kushina was already kneeling on the bed, watching them both with calm, heated interest.
pushed herself up onto her elbows, still trying to adjust to the reality of the moment—the wife who had just invited her, the husband who had just carried her to the bed, the thick tension that now filled the room like smoke.
Minato stood at the edge of the mattress and looked at the two of them.
Kushina on her knees in the crimson dress, lips still swollen from kissing him, one breast still partially bared.
Fubuki on her back in tight dark green, cheeks flushed, thighs pressed together, the evidence of her own arousal already visible in the way she breathed. Both of them beautiful. Both of them waiting.
A slow, deeply satisfied heat settled in his chest.
I really am the chosen one, he thought, the words quiet and certain inside his own head as his eyes moved from one woman to the other.
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